


Fail

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Gen, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-17 03:17:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21047411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Regis tries to help.





	Fail

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Regis would like to think himself a reasonably good father. He’s too busy, of course, and often times that probably has crossed the line in to neglect, but he does _love_ his son with every fibre of his being, and he does his very best to provide for Noctis. He’s always made sure that Noctis has everything he could need or even want. For the first several years of Noctis’ life, Regis enjoyed hearing the strange string of requests—a new comic book, a toy cat, even a scooter that he could ride around the Citadel. That was another aspect of Regis’ disappointment when Noctis grew distant in his teenage years. In adulthood, he hardly asks his father for anything.

Regis still tries to give it. After seeing his son’s first online video, posted on an account he never approved of, he knows it’s time for him to step in. He’s watched the two minute long clip half a dozen times over. It was increasingly painful with each viewing. Yes, Noctis looks like he’s having the time of his life in it, despite the way his face is screwed up in an attempt to look ‘badass’—his lyrics, not Regis’—but Regis can still tell that Noctis is thoroughly enjoy himself. As is Prompto Argentum. The two of them share a number of shots, all filmed by one person clearly holding a low-budget handheld camera. The music that drones over them sounds like it was produced on a computer by an amateur, no real instruments or talent involved. The lyrics are vaguely comical, when he can understand them, and Regis can tell that the hard edge is meant in jest. But it’s not exactly a _funny_ video, just a sad one. Noctis, clearly, is not a natural born rock star.

The video still has over a million views, but that’s to be expected when one of the two ‘singers’—a term used very lightly in this case—is the crown prince of Insomnia. Underneath the video is a bar indicating the reaction, and though it’s overwhelmingly positive, Regis knows that that’s only because no one would willingly insult their prince. That, or people are taking pity on him. Regis isn’t exactly up to date on the music scene, but he does know that most bands would be ashamed of something so horribly low budget and _goofy._

Which is precisely why Regis calls Noctis into his office. Noctis comes, looking as bored as he always does lately, dressed well enough but wrinkled and slouching. He slumps into the seat across from Regis’ desk, unable to see the computer screen, where the video’s paused on a shot of Noctis and Prompto ‘dancing’ on top of a garbage bin.

Regis clears his throat and starts with, “I’ve been shown your music video.”

Noctis actually perks up. He’s still frowning, but he sits up straighter and asks, “Yeah?”

“Yes. I found it to be quite...” He trails off, then starts again, “I’m surprised to see you’ve taken an interest in music, Noct. But of course, I’m happy to support you.”

Noctis actually looks _surprised._ “Really? You’re okay with it?”

“Yes. Which is why I’ve arranged for you to receive lessons from both a vocal couch and dance studio. I’ve also hired professional sound, lighting, and film crews for your next endeavor, as well as a location scout. They’ve all been instructed to make themselves available to you when you compose your next piece.” Opening the top drawer of his desk, Regis produces a number of business cards and slides them across the desk. Noctis stares at them for a long moment, then tentatively takes them.

He repeats, “‘Professional’?” 

“Yes.”

Noctis wrinkles his nose, drops the hand holding the cards, and whines, “But then it wouldn’t be _cool_ anymore.”

Regis blinks. “Excuse me?”

“I mean... I appreciate the thought. Thanks. But... dad, you’ll ruin our street cred if you make us take lessons.”

Regis wryly echoes, “_Street cred_?”

“Yeah. We’re cool now. Thanks anyway.”

Standing up, Noctis drops the cards back onto Regis’ desk. He offers an awkward smile, then strolls right out of the office. Regis stares at his retreating back.

Regis has several people to call and disappoint. He diverts that to Clarus, slowly dialing the phone on his desk.

Clarus answers, _“How’d it go?”_

Regis sighs, “I don’t understand kids nowadays.” 

_“Me neither. Just be glad his pants stayed up in the video.”_

Regis groans but counts his blessings.


End file.
